A few weeks ago, my friend Dave Gibbons recommended Richard Rohr’s Letting Go to me and this week, I’ve been able to check out Richard Rohr’s teachings. It seems like one of those ideas that stays with you, reshaping how you see yourself and the world. And, wow, it has been both eye-opening and deeply challenging.

Here’s the Amazon book blurb: We often think of saints as rare individuals whose gifts far exceed our own, and St. Francis is no exception. But for Fr. Richard Rohr, a prolific author and renowned speaker, the life and teachings of this beloved figure offer an authentic spirituality we can all embody. Fr. Rohr gives us a six session learning course that explores: the surprising richness we discover by simplifying our lives – without taking a vow of poverty; liberation from our self-limiting biases and certitudes; contemplation and action, two key steps toward communing more deeply with the Divine, and more.

Rohr’s ideas about detachment and forgiveness have been sitting with me ever since, pushing me to reflect on my own life in ways I wasn’t quite prepared for. But let me be honest—I’m still struggling with a lot of what Rohr talks about. His concepts make sense in theory, but living them out? That’s a whole different story.

From Building To Letting Go

Rohr talks about life as having two halves. The first half is all about building—creating your identity, achieving goals, and constructing the frameworks that define who you are. This is the phase where we work hard to accumulate: success, security, relationships, and even a sense of control over our lives. And I’ve been there—honestly, I’m probably still there in many ways.

But Rohr says the second half of life is different. It’s not about adding more to what we’ve built; it’s about letting go of it.

That idea really stopped me in my tracks.

Let go? Of everything I’ve worked so hard to create?

It feels counterintuitive—almost like giving up. And yet, Rohr suggests that true freedom comes when we stop clinging to these constructs and start trusting in something deeper. I wish I could say I’ve embraced this fully, but the truth is, I haven’t. Letting go of the things that have defined me feels terrifying. What if I lose my sense of purpose? What if I don’t know who I am without these accomplishments or roles? These questions linger in my mind as I wrestle with what Rohr is asking us to consider.

The Struggle To Forgive Yourself

One of the most striking insights from Letting Go is Rohr’s perspective on forgiveness—especially self-forgiveness. Like most people, when I think about forgiveness, I usually focus on others: people who’ve hurt me or taken advantage of me.

But Rohr points out something deeper: a lot of the anger we carry isn’t just directed outward; it’s directed inward. This hit me because it’s so true when you seriously consider it. When someone hurts me or takes advantage of my vulnerability, part of my anger is directed at them—but a bigger part is often aimed at myself.

Why didn’t I see it coming?

Why did I let myself get into that situation?

Why wasn’t I stronger or smarter or more careful?

That inner voice can be relentless.

Rohr challenges us to let go of this self-directed anger and forgive ourselves for being human—for not always knowing better or protecting ourselves perfectly. But let me tell you, this is some of the hardest ideas and conepts I’ve ever encountered. Forgiving others feels hard enough; forgiving myself feels almost impossible some days. Even though I want to release it, it often feels like it has a grip on me that won’t let go. Rohr talks about surrendering this anger and shame to God—trusting that we don’t have to carry it alone. That idea gives me hope, but honestly, I’m still working on what that surrender looks like in practice.

Rethinking Vulnerability

Another perspective from Rohr that has stuck with me is how he reframes vulnerability. Like many people, I’ve always seen vulnerability as a risk—a kind of weakness that leaves you open to getting hurt or taken advantage of. And when those things happen (because they inevitably do), it’s easy to blame yourself for being “too soft” or “too trusting.”

But Rohr offers a different way of seeing vulnerability: not as a flaw but as a strength—a willingness to engage deeply with life even when there’s risk involved. That idea resonates with me, but again, putting it into practice feels daunting. How do you embrace vulnerability without feeling like you’re setting yourself up for more pain? How do you stop blaming yourself for the times your openness led to hurt?

I don’t have answers yet—just questions and a lot of reflection.

The Aspiration To Let Go

Ultimately, what Rohr invites us into is a process of letting go—not just of external attachments but also of the internal burdens we carry: anger, shame, regret. He talks about how freeing this can be—how letting go creates space for peace and grace and healing—but if I’m honest, it’s hard to put into practice, to live it out of course. I want to feel that freedom he describes—to experience what it’s like to truly release these weights and trust God with them. The idea of surrendering control sounds beautiful in theory, but in reality? It feels like stepping into the unknown without a safety net. Still, there’s something about Rohr’s words that keeps drawing me back—a sense that this journey toward letting go is worth pursuing even if it’s messy and incomplete right now.

Moving Forward (Imperfectly)

As I reflect on these lessons from Letting Go, I realize how far I have to go in this process of detachment and self-forgiveness. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe part of the journey is learning to sit with the discomfort and trust that growth doesn’t happen overnight.

For now, I’m trying to take small steps—acknowledging where I’m holding on too tightly and asking myself what it might look like to loosen my grip just a little bit. It’s not easy work by any stretch of the imagination, but something about Rohr’s message gives me hope: the idea that by letting go—not perfectly but intentionally — we can open ourselves up to something greater than anything we could build on our own. The perspective that might hesp is that it isn’t about arriving at some perfect destination; it’s about staying open to the process and trusting that God meets us where we are—even in our struggles.

Thoughts?